#vintage doorknobs

[scoutingthetrooper]

[gibbousmanor]

[riotclitshave]

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Aqua ~

[swanosol]

[jeanneelaine]

[kanehopkins]

Home Bar Single Wall Austin Wet bar in a large transitional single-wall image with a medium-tone medium-brown floor, glass-front cabinets, gray cabinets, wood countertops, gray backsplash, and subway tile backsplash. The image also features an undermount sink.

[slutforvoldy]

“ INVISIBLE STRING. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: the reader reminisces about her deep, enduring love with lando through an old photo album.

word count: 1k

warnings: no use of y/n, a lot of taylor swift references, mentions god (just in case someone is an atheist)

pairing: husband!lando norris x wife!reader

a/n: a little fun fact, this was my school work back in 2023 since my religion teacher told us to create a fanfic, but instead of leaving it in my google docs, i decided to make some little changes and post it for funsies. anyways, enjoy !!!

IT WAS MIDNIGHT. A hint of salt lingered in the air, carried by the cold, gloomy breeze as gray clouds washed over Monaco in the month of August. The city was silent, the neighbors deep in slumber, and the rhythmic chirping of crickets was the only sound accompanying the dim glow of the streetlights. It felt as if the whole world was asleep—except for her.

She could not sleep while her husband, Lando, peacefully snored beside her. She lay and watched her husband as he slowly breathed with his eyes closed. She looked at him in awe as she saw the soft, relaxed look on his face. She slightly brushed the hair on her husband’s face. She smiled faintly. It’s been a long time since she's seen the peaceful look on his face. She knew that Lando had been quite stressed these past few weeks due to his work, which had been greatly affecting her. She was trying really hard to understand her husband. To clear her thoughts, she decided to go downstairs to pass the time, hoping that it would make her sleepy. 

She carefully removed the duvet to avoid disturbing her husband’s slumber. She placed her feet on the cold tile floor and shivered at the feeling. She walked toward the closet to wear a jacket that Lando owned. Cold nights were unbearable, but at least they gave her an excuse to wrap herself in something that smelled like him. The familiar scent of Dior Sauvage mixed with his natural musk filled her lungs, bringing a faint smile to her lips. The jacket was enough to keep her warm. She tilted the doorknob, looking back at her husband to get a glimpse of his sleeping frame before walking out of the bedroom and going downstairs. 

Rubbing her tired face, she finally made it downstairs. She walked around the house, seeing all the picture frames from years ago with Lando—there was one with a photo that was taken on Lando's first grand prix win in Miami. They looked so in love and carefree, celebrating his triumph with pure, unfiltered joy. Looking away from the photo frames, she then stumbled upon a bookshelf full of photo albums and books. She playfully brushed her hand along the spines of the photo albums, one by one, at the ends of her fingers, and decided to choose one out of several photo albums. 

It was a familiar brown leather-bound photo album. It is old and bleached; it looks like it hasn’t been touched in many years. She slowly grazed her hand along the vintage and stained photo album, seeing how it left traces of her marks because of the thick dust that covered the entirety of the book. She then opened the photo album, and she smiled at the sight.

It was her favorite photo album. It was filled with photos of her in her childhood, like growing up with her parents, in the field of her favorite flowers, pictures with the other drivers, and birthday photos. There were also many pictures of her and Lando during their teen years: Lando teaching her how to drive a car, her wearing Lando’s helmets, and more.

As she was flipping through the pages of the photo album, one photo slipped out. She looked down, confused, at the photo that had just fallen; she couldn’t remember the time when she placed a photo between the pages of the photo album, and it had also been a long time since she had opened this photo album. She bent down and flipped the photo. It was a picture of her and Lando’s wedding. She reminisced at the moment. 

She couldn't believe how young they looked and how much time had passed. She smiled as she remembered that day like it was yesterday. The sun was shining, and the birds were chirping. She could still feel the warmth of Lando’s hand in hers as they exchanged their vows. She observed how happy they were. Lando was carrying her in princess style. The veil was falling over her head; there was cake frosting on Lando's face. Their eyes are both gleaming with happiness; they are both smiling and laughing candidly, and everything looks positive.

She suddenly remembered the time when they exchanged laughter, how they kissed in town and downtown bars, how they drunkenly danced under the street lights in the middle of the night, and how he lingered around her like a tattoo kiss. Despite Lando's wrongs and mistakes he made in the past, she believed and still saw the best in him. He managed to tend to all of her wounds. Lando drew stars around her scars, kissing every single scar on her body and making her feel loved. 

She remembered the man she loved through their wedding photo. The best and happiest day of her life. The day that changed her whole life, wherein they became two souls in one. She remembered how she could feel her heart racing when she looked at him at the end of the aisle; she saw the same soft look and vulnerability he had on his face earlier. She could smell the flowers from the bouquet. The soft piano is playing in the background. She remembered how they vowed everlasting love and to always cherish each other, surviving through thick and thin, for better or worse the situation, they will always have each other no matter what it takes until death does them part. She could feel the love and excitement radiating from both of them as they exchanged their vows.

Tears started building up in her eyes, thinking about how her marriage with Lando transformed them into the better and stronger people they are now. She felt grateful for her life and for the love she shared with Lando. She knew that they had something special. That night, she went to bed with a smile on her face, feeling grateful for the memories and the love that she and Lando shared. She knew that they had come a long way, but she also knew that their love would continue to grow stronger with each passing day.

After twenty years of marriage, she thought about how she was one lucky woman, having been able to bind her soul with her first love. It feels like God purposely let a single thread of gold tie her to him. An invisible string.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

We're in Ardlinnhe, Bearsden, Dunbartonshire, Scotland this morning, looking at this restored 1900 example of the Scottish Arts and Crafts Movement. 4bds, 2ba, $840,000 approx USD. Not only is it so lovely, but it's also interesting to see what the Arts & Crafts interpretation looked like in Scotland.

The cozy living room has wainscoting similar to the US Arts & Crafts style homes.

The dining room opens to a terrace.

The fireplace is in an alcove with the two side windows, but not the typical glass front book cabinets. I LOVE that honey-colored brick on the fireplace.

This is so interesting. Isn't it lovely, though? Note the original wide plank oak flooring.

The kitchen remodel is a perfect combination of original and new. Those cabinets are wonderful and the tile & faucet they chose are perfect complements. Plus, I love an undermount sink.

If a listing takes special note of the furnishings, it usually means that they come with the house, so if that's the case- isn't this wonderful? In the bedroom, the wainscoting covers the walls from floor to ceiling.

A large modern shower was added to the spacious vintage bath.

Bedroom across the hall. Look at the unusual doors with high doorknobs.

An upstairs addition was added in the 1930s to accommodate more bedrooms.

The addition fits seamlessly into the existing architectural style.

The lovely deck off the living room leads down to the Edwardian style garden.

Not only did the owners take great care in refurbishing the cottage, but they also revived the garden.

The garden includes rolling lawns with fir trees, a weeping willow and perennial blooms. Despite the house’s tranquil feel, the buzz of Glasgow can be reached in 20 minutes from nearby Bearsden station, where trains also run to Edinburgh in under 80 minutes.

https://inigo.com/sales-list/ardlinnhe

[ethereacals]

hola!! would you be able to write a one shot with your first date with remus? maybe you’re both a little shy and nervous and just trying so hard to impress one another and there’s a lot of blushing and cute moments :)

hii! ofc, lovely! (screaming cause i got my first request 🥳🥳)

—•—

Check Yes, Juliet

synopsis: when Marlene sets two polar opposites up to go on a date

contents: fem!reader, reader likes bows, badboy!remus, just cute adorable idiots in love (:, mentioned dorlene!, readers favorite color is red

warnings: none!

a/n: this fic is inspired by the song “Check Yes, Juliet” by We The Kings! thanks for requesting!

“MARLS… ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?” you ask from your position in front of your mirror, carefully tying red ribbon into your hair.

“of course it is, y/n. he’ll love you! besides, opposites attract!” Marlene assured you, carefully applying red lipstick to her plush lips.

“i was a little… hesitant when Pandora insisted I go on a date with Dorcas, y’know, cause we were so different. but look at us— we’re about to hit our eight months!”

you nodded silently, checking yourself out in the mirror before finishing your eyeliner.

once Marlene had gotten picked up from your shared flat, you laced up your shoes and got your things together.

and that’s when you heard the knock.

the special knock.

the knock you had been waiting three days for.

your hand nervously gripped the doorknob and twisted it open.

“hi.”

“hi.”

you didn’t mean to say “hi” in unison, now what do you say? crap he was supposed to say hi first and then—

“you look gorgeous.”

you got broken out of your thoughts, your eyes hitting his with an awkward gaze.

“me?”

he chuckled, “who else would i be talking to?”

“o-oh, right, o-of course.” you blushed out of embarrassment.

you could cue some crickets here, you could tell he was nervous, you’ve never seen the resident bad boy so nervous.

“these are for you.”

he held out a bouquet of luscious roses, red, your favorite color.

“w-wow… Remus… these are beautiful…”

“just like you.” his cheeks lit up in a rosy shade, almost as if a painter had graced him with his paintbrush.

he’d definitely rehearsed that.

you let out a soft giggle, before stepping out the front door and walking with him to his car.

you guys ended up going to this adorable vintage diner near his house, you felt like you could talk to him for hours, except you were so nervous.

he even paid for the food, he paid! (even though the guy should totally pay on first days but that’s just me 🤷‍♀️)

“don’t worry, darlin’, i’ll pay”

“Remus i was gonna pay—“

“shh, keep sipping on your slushy” you blushed, you needed to get this blushing problem under control.

“so, do you have any hobbies?”

sweet of him to ask, but you felt as if you were a bit basic.

“oh, i play electric guitar so.. i guess that’s my hobby, what about you?”

you smiled, god he already loved your smile, it was so sweet, especially since your tongue was red from the cherry slushy you had been sipping on.

“you play guitar? sick!— i mean— cool.. i play bass.”

“bass? i’ve always wanted to play bass!— i mean— that’s super cool, maybe we can play together sometime?” you were quick to get flustered by your own words.

damn, you were being bold.

“i’d like that.”

he tossed some stones into the river underneath the bridge you guys had found, your legs dangling gently off the edge as you sipped on your slushy.

“do you read at all?” you asked, reading being one of your most favorite things.

“i do— actually.”

“really?

“i know it seems unlikely, but yeah, i do.”

“well.. what are your favorites?”

“it’s hard to choose, but i’ve always liked the classics— you know, like.. Romeo and Juliet.”

“Remus, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you, the coolest guy in town, reads Romeo and Juliet.” he let out a chuckle.

“it’s true.” he shrugged, flashing his signature grin at you.

“do… you have a favorite?”

and just like that you both had spent quite a few hours just sitting on that bridge and talking, you never thought it could really get better than that.

“i know we already talked about hobbies, but have you got any more?”

“i mean— i skateboard, ”

“you skateboard?! damn, i’m really trying to make myself sound cool here but you aren’t helping.” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

“oh come on, it’s skateboarding, it’s not that cool…” Remus itched his neck sheepishly.

“i’m sure there has to be something cool about you.” he teased, his big hand ruffling your hair.

“i don’t know what that could possibly be.” you shrugged.

“well… you wear these beautiful bows everytime i see you walking down the street, and you told me that you like to stay up all night and play video games.” he remembered everything..

“that’s not cool, that’s being a loser.”

“you are about the farthest thing from a loser, y/n.”

you froze a bit, that was so… sweet.

“t-thanks.” you blushed, again. (no surprise)

“i’ll have to teach you how to skate, though.”

“i’d love that.”

the drive back to your apartment was nothing short of a dream, music blasting, turns out you both had similar music taste.

“billy joel has to be a gift from the heavens.” you remarked loudly, your hair blowing in the breeze, the top down on his convertible.

“i can play uptown girl on guitar!” he responded, a wide smile on his face.

“really?”

“yeah!” the excitement in his voice made you blush almost the same color as your slushy.

“that’s so cool!”

he smiled wider, looking over to you, your pretty face lit up with street lights.

“i write poetry.” you confessed, you’ve definitely come out of your shell.

“you need to show me, sometime.” he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

“i… had a great time with you today.” you were so smiley.

“i had a great time with you, too.”

as the gentleman Remus John Lupin was, he walked you to your door.

“i guess this is goodbye.” he sighed lightly, not really wanting his night to end with you.

“thanks for.. everything—“

before you could even finish speaking, his lips were on yours.

your brain imploded, your eyes fluttering shut into the soft kiss Remus had just blessed you with.

your lips tasted of cherry and lip gloss, but he really didn’t mind. his nimble hands crept to your waist as your hands fell to his shoulders. just before he pulled away.

“i’ll see you around, Juliet.”

you smiled at the given nickname, blushing at the suddenness of that kiss still.

“bye, Romeo.”

he chuckled, before quickly walking down the hallway.

Marlene was right, opposites attract.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Fabricated Reality AU part 1 (Yanderes x reader)

This is a series where I put all my era 3 OCs in Situations™, so all 5 of them would kind of battle over you

Introduction

You woke up in a cold sweat. You panted as your eyes darted around the room, struggling to lift the fog clouding your mind, where are you? It appears to be in a bedroom with clinically bright and cold lights, white walls, and very little furniture. You realize you're sitting on ivory sheets, and the mattress beneath you is neither soft nor firm. It's adequate.

You spent a few more moments looking around, trying to make sense of it all. There is no personality in this room, no paintings or shades other than white. The clothes on your back also match the surroundings, it resembles a hospital gown, down to its scratchiness and stiffness.

Cradling your head, you cautiously shifted yourself to the edge of the bed and set your feet down. The tiles are cold and you frowned at the unpleasantness of it. However, you're more upset that you couldn't remember what brought you into this predicament in the first place. Hell, you don't even remember anything at all. Who were you? What were you?

You rubbed your face and sighed, but upon lifting your head up, you were surprised to see a door that wasn't there before. You looked around once more for any context, but you found none.

You inched towards it, carefully reaching out for its doorknob and twisting it. Your ears perk up when you hear a click, as you're familiar with the concept of an unlocked door.

You pulled it open and exited your room, emerging into a grand, beautiful marble hallway adorned with chandeliers and side tables shouldering vases of exotic flowers. The air is crisp and fresh despite the absence of open windows.

At the end of it, lies the mouth of a set of grandiose stairs. You made your way towards them, hearing the muffled chatters growing more and more distinct with every step.

"...no luck, I still don't get what the fuck is up with them. Montgomery almost split his nails trying to pry the windows open, the crowbar you found snapped too. I kept finding myself back here whenever I stepped out through those huge doors." You heard a deep, masculine voice, exasperated.

"Items in the pantry and kitchen replenish themselves at dawn in seemingly impossible ways." Another voice, this time softer and more honeyed, added to the conversation.

You poked your head out from the corner. From above, you saw four men sitting on their sofas and loveseats. They seem to be discussing something.

"It's so hard to find a room, the doors lead me into a different place each time. It's frustrating whenever I open my wardrobe, I'll find myself in the garden." You listened to them complain. One of them stood out; they hadn't said a word yet. The other three were vocal.

The quiet one flicked their gaze up, landing on you. It definitely spooked you, enough to retreat back behind a wall. You felt your heart pounding in fear as you brought your head out again to see what the situation was.

The person, with luscious, inky locks and emerald eyes was on their way to the stairs. They moved so elegantly and fluidly, that it appears the rest of the group didn't notice that they had left the conversation entirely.

You panicked and instinctively bolted in the direction of your room. You reached for the doorknob and swung the door open, retreating into the white space.

Shutting the door behind you, your shoulders heaved up and down as you tried to recover from your anxiousness. It was distracting enough to blind you to the fact that this isn't the room that you work up in.

"...Sweetheart?"

You whipped your head back to see a man with unkempt, brown shaggy hair and messy stubble. His dark eyes were wide open as he watched you through the strands with his mouth open agape. Your eyes shifted to the surroundings, it appears to be a rustic, farmhouse bedroom with vintage decor and furniture. Anything white, yellowed with age, which includes the floral-print comforter that he's sitting on.

You tried to get out of the room, but you found that the door disappeared behind you. Dread set in when he suddenly rushed over to you, a panicked yell escaped your lips when he engulfed you in his arms.

"It's you, it really is you..." Your nerves calmed when you realized that he meant no harm, you found that he appeared impossibly tall, needing to reach your eye levels by kneeling. The man spent a few more seconds sobbing on your shoulder, his arms tightly constricting you as if you were going to disappear at a moment's notice.

He sniffled, pulling away and revealing his teary, bloodshot eyes to you. The tip of his nose is red from crying, you assume that he's been doing this for a while now.

"H-how did y'get here? Are you okay? Did anyone hurt ya'?" He lets go of you to examine your body. He checked your arms, your face, and even the temperature of your forehead, using the back of his hand. You noted the heavy, southern accent in his voice.

You simply stared at him as he stroked your cheeks, pushing any stray hairs behind your ears. It felt... pleasant. You don't think that he's posing any danger to you, but you're still wary of him. Is he mistaking you for someone else? You have never met him before. Though, you couldn't remember much of anything before this. Perhaps he was someone important to you.

"Please say somethin', darlin'." His eyebrows knitted in confusion and worry. "Anythin', please... I need to know if you're okay." The man held your head in his large hands, keeping it in place and slightly mashing your cheeks together until your lips puckered.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Please?" He begged, becoming desperate as each second passed.

You pried his hands away and opened your mouth to say something, but unfortunately, you couldn't say anything coherent. Not even gibberish, you could only make short, forceful shouts and groans that sounded like you were in agony. And in a way, you were, because you're becoming increasingly distressed over your inability to speak. You could comprehend language, but you couldn't express it.

The man, seemingly sensing your terror, quickly hushed you by allowing you to retreat into his strong arms. "Shh... Shh.... It's okay, It's okay honey. W-we're gonna figure it out." He pecked you on the crown numerous times to try and calm you down. Luckily it did, or he would have lost his mind too.

"Oh, you poor thing. What happened to ya'...?" He mumbled in your hair.

You stayed like this for a while, enjoying the warmth his body provides. You shivered a bit at some point, finding his heat wasn't enough to stave you from the frigidness of the room.

"I reckon yer' pretty cold, only havin' that on yer back." The stranger pulled away to take his ratty, chore jacket off. "Here, let me help ya." He wraps it around you, and you instantly feel much better than before.

You tried to thank him, but all that escaped was a loud yell. It looks like you couldn't speak more than one syllable, nor could you necessarily control the volume of your voice.

He ushered you to the bed, where you sat on the edge, while he was still on his knees in front of you. He looked away momentarily, thinking of what to ask you. He must have thought you were acting strange, outside of his own version of you, as he proceeded to ask:

"Do ya'... remember me?" He enveloped your hands in his, and he brought it to his lips. His eyes were hopeful, but you knew he was bracing for the worst.

You hesitantly shook your head. You saw his shoulders sag in devastation.

"No, you- you must have heard me wrong. Do you remember me- do you remember us? The times we spent together, the nights we had..." He looked deeply into your eyes, to find anything, a glimmer of recognition no matter how vague. But he found nothing aside from a growing fear. "...Nothing...?"

You shook your head again, feeling guilty and pity towards him as he released a choked sob.

"Really...? You, you don't remember me?" He whispered tears rolling down his face again. Some landed on your hands.

You gave him a sympathetic look as you nodded.

"Oh. Um..." He sniffled, wiping his tears away. You gave him a moment to regain his composure.

You tried asking what his name was, but it came out as a single shout; making him jolt. Seeing that there is no way to reliably communicate verbally, you resorted to using hand gestures. It took you a few attempts and a lot of pointing, but eventually, he understood what you wanted from him.

"Montgomery. My name is Montgomery, ya' used to call me Monty." His face told you everything, you knew it crushed him to reintroduce himself.

You nodded, but before you could even 'ask' him more questions, you heard a door opening.

Turning your head to the source, you saw the same man who you were initially running away from. Seemingly surprised at the sight before him.

The door that he entered disappeared behind him, trapping the three of you in this room, but the green-eyed man didn't seem too concerned about that. You couldn't predict any discernible pattern in this reality.

It appears as if he's frozen in place, his pupils blowing wide as it landed on you. It's unnerving, so you got up and hid behind Montgomery. When the other stranger tilted his head to look at the other man, his pupils constricted considerably.

The atmosphere felt much colder, much more menacing than before. Montgomery tried to lighten it up by joking: "Lookin' for the shitter? Well, it ain't here sadly."

You surmise that the doors would lead to random places, even if it was physically impossible.

Montgomery wrapped an arm around you. "This is my spouse, they just burst in from one of those magic doors. Somethin's wrong, though. They can't speak, they couldn't remember me either."

You were unnerved at how the other man never blinked, just staring at the two of you owlishly.

"Maybe yours would show up later today or tomorrow. But just... Just be ready to have them break your heart like this." Montgomery laughed bitterly as he stroked your hair.

"What is your name?" His smooth, commanding yet gentle baritone voice asked you. It appears that he's expecting a certain answer.

You dug deeper into Montgomery's side, knowing that you can't say it.

"It's (name). They understand English and they can make noises... really loud ones too, but they can't say words." Montgomery answered for you. "Oh! And, Sweetie, this is Yves. He's also tryin' to figure out how this place works."

You nodded and brought your attention back to Yves.

There were a few beats of silence until it was broken by your frantic yelling; you saw the door materialize itself behind the lithe man and it disturbed you to no end. Montgomery struggled to hush you, as Yves stood there unmoving.

"...I see." He finally replied, holding a hauntingly blank look on his gorgeous face. Yves stared at you for a duration that made you and Montgomery much more uncomfortable. You felt like the stranger was etching every groove, every trace of your identity into his brain. You felt naked.

He closed his eyes and took a deep but silent breath. "Please excuse me, I have somewhere to be." Yves finally dismissed himself and left the room, softly closing the door behind him. It then, phased out of existence, leaving a smooth yet somewhat peeling, aging wall. It blended in with the area.

Yves appeared in the middle of the living room again. Where he found himself facing an audience, perplexed and disturbed at the fact that Yves suddenly manifested out of thin air. But it wasn't as bad as their first encounter with such anomalies, these had happened enough for them to accept it as somewhat mundane.

Yves stood there, averting his gaze as a stray tear rolled down his cheek. He appears to be preoccupied with something, as he didn't wipe the droplet off, instead allowing it to drip down his chin.

"What happened?" Asked the man who bore a familial resemblance to Yves, except he had copper eyebrows and hazel irises. He lounges leisurely on the sofa, holding a flute of champagne between his manicured fingers.

Yves spared each of them an unreadable glance, before wordlessly walking away.

[riotclitshave]

[eyesthatroll]

TOUCH

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after game care

warning(s): none i believe, didn’t really hardcore edit this, though.

word count: 1.1k

author’s note: is this cringe..? who knows. title is random, couldn’t really think of one. i kind of like this, though, i don’t know. as always, reblogs + constructive criticism are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well, thank you all for 700 followers! that is absolutely bonkers —mari <3

Jack turns the polished doorknob with a gentle, almost reverent touch. The door creaks open just wide enough for him to slip inside, his steps like whispers against the hardwood floor. He carefully eases the door closed, each inch moving with silent precision to preserve the serenity of the room.

His cautious efforts, however, seem almost futile as he enters the dimly lit space. The soft glow of a vintage lamp casts a warm, golden hue across the room, creating a cocoon of muted comfort. In the far corner of the cozy living room, there you were, curled up on the soft leather sectional, your presence barely stirring in the tranquil air. You were wrapped in a world of your own, ensnared by the allure of the latest book you had bought.

With a quiet sigh, he drops his bags by the door, kicking off his shoes, which land on the floor with a soft thud. Only then, did you finally lift your gaze, your awareness slowly dawning like the first light of day.

Pushing your glasses up to rest atop your head, your book becomes momentarily abandoned, your focus shifting toward your boyfriend. A tender smile graces your lips as you greet him, your voice carrying the warmth of affection, 'Hi, my love.'"

He offers you a small smile, his movements deliberate as he limps over to you, a testament to his eagerness to share a proper greeting despite the discomfort from his leg. Leaning in, he tilts his head downward, and his lips tenderly meet yours. He brings his calloused hands up to your face, cradling your cheeks with a delicate touch as his lips become one with yours.

The kiss lasts only for a few moments, before you're pulling away. As you draw back, a subtle frown creases your features, communicating your concern without uttering a word.

In the silent exchange of your expressions, Jack, attuned to your every nuance, shakes his head, discerning your worry. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

He attempts to offer you reassurance, but the subtle hesitation in the way he avoids putting his full weight on his left leg as he moves doesn't align with his words. "What happened to your foot?"

You had witnessed him take a harsh hit against the boards toward the end of the second period. And despite getting back up seemingly unscathed and returning for the third period, the discrepancy in his gait now raises questions.

"My knee," he clarifies, his voice gruff as he steps into the kitchen. He begins to rummage through the refrigerator until his fingers locate a chilled water bottle.

"Did you tell someone?"

Jack's stubbornness and unwavering commitment to hockey, even in the face of injuries, was well-known. He had a tendency to push himself beyond reasonable limits, insisting that he possessed an innate understanding of his body well enough to avoid serious harm. That sentiment did nothing to alleviate your persistent worry.

“No.”

Exhaling a sigh, you shake your head to yourself. “Jack, why n–”

“Leave it alone, baby, please. I’m tired, my body hurts, and I just want to go to bed.”

“Fine.” Dropping your hands in surrender, you end the conversation there. You knew that pushing the conversation any further would only fan the flames of an argument that you had no energy to occupy.

Jack trudges sluggishly upstairs, and you steal a few moments to gather wits about you, before closing your book, leaving it to rest on the coffee table, extinguishing the warm glow of the lamp before heading upstairs.

Upon entering your shared bedroom, you find Jack sitting at the edge of the bed, midway through the process of undressing. He struggles to remove his shirt, wincing in discomfort before abruptly halting.

"Your shoulder too?" You ask, closing the distance between the two of you. As you approach, he subtly spreads his legs to make room for you, and you slip into the space in between them with ease. With a gentle touch, your right hand rises, tucking away the stray, overgrown brown locks that obscure his face.

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, you take hold of the bottom hem of his shirt, carefully drawing it up and over his head. A hiss of discomfort escapes his lips as his arms are lifted above his head, revealing the pain he had been silently enduring.

"Do you want me to run a bath for you?" you ask, your voice carrying a tender note as you tilted your head slightly at him.

He shakes his head. "Will you rub my back?"

Your teeth graze over your bottom lip.

"Of course I will. Let me grab some lotion, okay?" You assure him with a small smile, leaning in to plant a quick, reassuring kiss against his forehead. Stepping out of his grasp, you make your way to your ensuite bathroom, where you retrieve a bottle of lotion from the counter beside the sink.

Upon your return to the bedroom, you find Jack laying on his stomach, his pants discarded, leaving him clad in only his boxer shorts. Quietly, you cross over to his side of the bed, and with a gentle grace, you mount his legs, straddling him intimately with your own legs positioned on either side.

Gazing down at him, your fingers delicately traverse the landscape of overwhelming redness that adorns his back. A sympathetic ache washes over you as you thought of the pain he must be enduring.

Reaching for the lotion bottle at your side, you squeeze a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Rubbing your hands together, you diligently work the lotion into a softened lather before gingerly pressing your palms onto his back. With a mindful touch, you apply moderate pressure, your nimble fingers skillfully working to unravel the knots of tension that had taken up residence along the contours of his back.

"Are you okay? I don't wanna hurt you," you murmur, with genuine concern. In response, a soft groan escapes his lips, and his hand reaches out to give your thigh a reassuring squeeze, conveying both his appreciation and trust in your touch.

A half an hour unfolds as you devotedly work your skilled hands across his back, your focus honed on the stubborn kinks in his shoulders. Your touch becomes more assertive, a firm pressure applied to those strained areas, eliciting soft grunts of relief from Jack.

It's not until you reach for more lotion that you notice the steady rise and fall of his chest, a sign that he had drifted off to sleep.

With a slowed motion, you lean forward, your lips softly gracing the middle of his shoulder blades with a soft kiss. A sweet, wordless expression of your affection.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Love The Hell Out Of You

Part 3: An Agreement

Your inability to sleep in the bedrooms upstairs that were still decorated in well-made vintage furniture, had also been the inexplicable draw that kept you from the guest bedroom on the main floor. Your inability to drag yourself to bed had meant that you were sleeping in the living room in front of the roaring fire in the fireplace, while you were attempting to come to terms with how time had felt.

The mere hours that encompassed a single day of you being in possession of this cabin and making an attempt to come to terms with your station in life, felt like a lifetime. The seconds and minutes that spanned hours had truly felt like lightyears passing by on a distant planet. The light from one planet or solar system that took 6 billion years to reach the next, had felt like the overhanging cloud that hung over you.

It was a day, days maybe at best, and it felt like this stretch of time would never cease. The emotional draw that made you incapable to dragging yourself to a proper bed the night before, had left you laying on the floor in the living room. Which by extension had made you wonder if that conversation in the cafe with that random alpha that appeared out of nowhere, was your mind trying to create memories where none existed.

That towering and massive alpha wearing a poor attempt at a mask to cover his face, had appeared like a phantom plague rising from the skiffs of sunlight pouring through the window. How was it possible for an alpha who was so positively massive in both height and muscle mass, to move so slowly and catch you off guard as he had?

And then for that same alpha to act as some mysterious phantom guardian angel who was also your neighbor? Was it all possible that this could have been the strangest unfolding circumstances to afflict you as of late?

You were emotionally vulnerable and pregnant, made to try and pick up the pieces of a relationship you were more invested in that your ex, while that said alpha, and ex had given you nothing. They had made it clear that you were on your own and there would be no contact with him from the point where he threw the pregnancy tests back in your face. And now you were un Austria, forced to pick up the pieces of a crumbling mess of a life, desperate to get things in order before your baby came.

You were currently 3 months pregnant, you had 6 months to get ready for a baby, prepare for a potentially harsh winter while relying on inheritance to survive. There was a lot to be done, and you felt unprepared for what was going to come, even more so with a cabin that needed minor repairs.

But that alpha, the one you had met at the cafe, the one who had offered to help you fix that furnace of yours, your mind kept relaying back to that conversation. That alpha who said he would come and fix your furnace, the gruffness of his voice as he demanded that he would fix it, not offer but do it.

There was an unceremonious doubt you’d harbored for that alpha, as if you were holding out on the possibility that it would actually happen. How could you have so easily been dragged through hell by one alpha who threw your pregnancy tests back in your face, only have another alpha offer to fix a problem for you?

In the end you didn’t have the ability to doubt much longer than an hour after you had woken up in the morning. As you were starting to rise from the cushion bed, you'd made for yourself on the floor, there was a steady rapping of knuckles on the front door.

You stumbled to your feet, blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you moved from the living room toward the front door. Your bare feet skidded across the hardwood floor, and your hand had grabbed the doorknob, just as quickly opening it as you could. As you came face to face with the hulking alpha on the other side, you were rendered silenced in shock by his size and the lack of a face mask on his face.

“You don’t even ask who is on the other side of the door? What if I was coming to take advantage of an omega like yourself?” His blue eyes were piercing, slightly crinkled at the corners from a few lines that had formed as his eyes narrowed. And there was a series of small scars on his face that gave him a rugged appearance without taking away from the qualities of his face that made him attractive.

Piercing blue eyes that you’d been captivated by before, even when you had seen him in the café, and a head of dirty blonde hair mussed as if he was playing with it before arriving.

“I-I’m sorry. I was-” you faltered, stumbling over your own excuses while he had stood on the front porch. His scent was a heady mix that was nothing if not addictive, leather, gunpowder and smoke, something earthy and rich.

He was an alpha who had stacked above you in height, and who outweighed you in pure muscle mass. He was a man who was part beast, part fictional creature that was standing before you on the cusp of your front porch, whilst staring at you as if you were the problem. As if you were the one who was unbelievable and incomprehensible.

“You are my new neighbor,” his voice had risen with an Austrian German accent, and he had drawn his attention past you toward the interior of your cabin that was only partially visible through the cracked door, “the omega who is pregnant.”

“Y/N,” you corrected him with your name, speaking over him with the desire to not be called ‘pregnant omega’ over and over again, even if it was the truth. Even if you were the pregnant omega who was scrambling to adjust to a life without the alpha who aided in getting you pregnant in the first place.

To your name, his eyes had flitted over you again. It was a natural state of wonder, the way his eyes swept over you as if he was analyzing you as a problem that he needed to solve. There was a sturdy silence to him as he watched you with a tilt of his head, and a purse of his lips. There was a tentative understanding, one that you had clearly missed, but he had picked up on, and with the tentative understanding had come acknowledgment with a single nod of his head.

“I’m here to fix your furnace.” He had acted on his own accord, telling you he was going to do it, not offering but telling you it was going to happen. And you were meant to step aside and let him in without qualms or protests, because what other option did you have? Wait for the repair services that would take weeks?

“It’s in the back,” you stepped to the side and listened to the creak of the wood floors beneath his weight as he crossed the threshold, and had taken pause to slip off his boots, “there’s the furnace room-”

“You slept on the floor last night?” His attention had fallen to the makeshift bed you'd crafted for yourself in front of the fireplace, not that it was hard to miss given the scattering of cushions and the blankets. His question had come with slight judgement and the quirk of his eyebrow, in the direction of your decision that you’d yet to clean, and your inability to sleep in a bed.

“I was busy unpacking.” You shift behind him as you give him an answer, regardless of whether he deserves to know or not, because this alpha was a stranger. Youd felt foolish enough letting him into your cabin to help you fix a furnace, let alone allowing him to stand there judging your choices when you’d exchanged less than fifty words with the alpha. “I was tired-”

“You are pregnant, single with no alpha to take care of you.” He had muttered under his breath, curtishly drawing himself away from you and the evidence of your haphazard bed, toward the utility rooms at the back. It was as if he had already known where he was going without needing your direction, and as he carted himself toward the back, you trailed off after him.

Your bare feet echoed on the floor as you moved swiftly after the towering alpha, that blanket still wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You had watched, aimlessly, at the edge of the utility room as the alpha before you had hunched before the wood burning furnace. There was a simple worn bag at his feet, and he had remained silent as he propped the panel off the front with a flathead screwdriver, setting the metal panel to the side to observe the state of the furnace.

“Do you...want water or something? I can get you something to drink? Or...eat?” You weren’t sure of yourself, of whether you thought you had to stand there and watch him. You had shifted your weight from one foot to the other while he had begun pulling seemingly random tools out of this bag, all while his broad and muscled back was to you.

He was silent in the direction of your questions, only working for a few minutes in silence before he had paused. He turned his head and looked at you from over his shoulder, his blue eyes flitting over you while you stood there fiddling with the ends of the blanket. You were struck silent, rendered motionless while he observed you, and the cogs in his head were turning the longer he watched you.

“I’ll just.... leave...” ultimately you had cowed out, backing away from him and his work, turning on your heel as you moved to give him space. You were thrown off emotionally by the rattling social conventions of your life, by the strange draw that had brought this alpha to you in the first place, and the choppy waters that were going to be navigated on some half-assed tin boat.

It was a situation you had never thought you would be in, and yet here you were standing in the cusp of this cabin, barefooted while an alpha who owed you nothing had simultaneously spared you from freezing in the winter.

An alpha who you thought you could have loved, had destroyed what blanketed fantasy you had of a potential life.

While another was in your house, working on a furnace that you needed fixed, without you having to ask.

It had rendered you confused, altered by your perceptions of what alpha’s could be and what they could do—how could two people of the same designation be so completely opposite of each other?

You spared your mind the mental task of trying to navigate the differences and spared yourself the thoughts of that old alpha. You had returned to the living room and began cleaning up the mess of the bed you had slept on the previous night, arranging cushions and folding blankets. You worked while the sound of rattling and occasional pounding had come from the utility room, avoiding the general area as to not act as a shadow that was hanging around the mysterious alpha.

There was little you could do anyway, and soon your attention had fallen from the sounds in the room to the necessitated task of finishing what little unpacking you had to do. There wasn’t much, you had worked yourself into a stupor the previous night, which was partially why you had slept on the floor instead of a bed, and you had very little to do today. Still, you worked on arranging and unpacking, on shifting subtle things here and there until the scent of the alpha had become a presence in your home.

“The furnace is fixed, there shouldn’t be problems with it again.” The voice of that alpha had startled you from the kitchen, and the appearance of him again had left you feeling conflicted.

“Thank you,” your response was first of gratitude and then you had looked around your kitchen, thinking of some kind of reward or physical gratitude that you could give him in exchange for his time. “I could pay you-”

“Pay me?” His tone reflected a tone of offence immediately, and his lips had become pursed with a tight-lipped scowl. “You will have enough to worry about with a baby on the way, and I saved you money with those repair services.”

“Well, you fixed it, I should thank you-” you had inched forward, your body closing the distance between the two of you, your hands wringing and folding in front of you, a sign of your nervousness that was unyielding. “-or is that what neighbors do for each other here?”

He was silent, observing you. He was silent until he had drawn his arms across his chest and had taken a wide and speculative gaze around your cabin. There was a silence between the two of you, in this situation that could have very easily become tense or dangerous for the sake of your baby and yourself—it was oddly...peaceful.

“You don’t have enough wood to last a winter,” he had observed, nodding his head in the direction of the wood shed you could see outside your kitchen window, though you were easily puzzled by the appearance of a healthy stack there.

“That’s...there’s a lot there.” You had mumbled, following the direction of his eyes and the ire that was building again at your simple comment. “More than I would need.”

“Nein.” He cut you off with a shake of his head, and a faltering sigh that had weighed on his shoulders, as if this was a burden that he was going to fully embrace upon himself.

“Nein, nein, nein...you need seasoned wood. You need wood that has been dried for longer than 6 months, that wood will smoke. You will be...”

“I didn’t know.” You mumbled and began a slow pace from the kitchen window toward the countertop, grabbing a random apple you’d set there earlier, using the action as a buffer for your thoughts. “I’m terrible at this, I have no idea what I’m doing. I'm three months pregnant, I'm completely alone, and I have no idea how I’m going to-”

You had bite into the apple, using that piece of fruit as a measure to stop yourself from talking. You were pacing, making a slow berth around the kitchen while this alpha’s eyes were on you, the tilt of his head drawing another curious exchange between the two of you—wherein he likely thought you weren’t with any of the risk to his free time, and doubted whether you’d get through the next few months.

“You have work to do here, things you cannot do on your own.” His voice was soft, softer than you anticipated, and in the silence that was broken, he had drawn your attention back toward him. “You have no one here for you, you are alone.”

A statement, not an opinion, but a fact.

“I am... gone a lot for work.” He had lifted his hand and ran his fingers through the messy blonde tresses at the top of his head, his eyes screwing closed for a moment as that firm hard line returned to his lips. “But if I am here, I will help you fix things. You need the help and I am...my mutter would kill me, even if I am a grown alpha, if she knew I was not doing anything to help-”

“But I don’t need-” you had opened your mouth to speak, and just as quickly shut it when his gaze had snapped to you, a low rumbling growl in his chest rendering you silent. “-I don’t want to make you feel obligated...”

“Obligated? And how obligated would I feel if I return from work only to hear that the omega expecting a baby had broken an ankle because of a wooden plank that she wouldn't fix?” The sarcastic air of his voice had done nothing to dissuade the kind of dry laugh that had slipped so freely from your lips.

It was amusing in a twisted kind of way, the pressure for this random alpha insinuated by his mother, was more than any other alpha had ever done for you. And it was random, it was because of a random happenstance that had brought you to the cafe—and into this alpha’s circle.

“I will be back in two weeks,” he had approached the front door of your cabin with his things by his side, speaking with such a directive that was unshakeable, “I will fix the steps for you, I will bring seasoned wood that you can use. And you will not sleep on the floor anymore.”

You stared at him from your position near the living room, hands balled in front of you as he had slipped his boots back on. He had come in with such a whirlwind of demands and this idea that you were just going to listen to him without question, and you didn’t viably want to argue.

“Thank you,” you mumbled again, watching him open the door and step back out onto the porch, however he didn’t close the door in your face like you expected.

Rather he had swept his eyes over you, eyebrows furrowed and his jaw ticking tensely.

“König,” he finally gave you his name and then, after you had repeated it twice, had he closed the door leaving you alone again.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Focus on me - Chan

(this is a membership exclusive + a preview 👀 you can read the whole perverted story here)

pairing: Bang Chan x female reader x Felix Lee

summary: when Chan finds a vintage video camera in perfect condition, he has to show Felix. However he sounds a little preoccupied with you. Chan knows he shouldn't look, but the camera can't help but record everything...

warnings: voyeurism, pet names, dom! Felix/subbie reader, slight exhibitionism, rough s3x, masterbation

....As he walked, more like excitedly skipped, back to his apartment, he couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of showing his roommate Felix. Felix had always enjoyed technology, especially anything vintage or antique, and Chan just knew how much he would enjoy this find.

Chan opened the front door to the apartment and made his way to Felix's room. Chan was so distracted by his surprise he didn't even notice the noises coming from his roommate's room. He turned the doorknob halfway before a soft moan struck through his ears.

Chan froze immediately, recognizing your voice from the previous times you had visited. He could always hear your faint whimpering through the wall that he shared with Felix. His cock twitched in his pants as you moaned again, the unmistakable sounds of skin slapping following it. Chan knew that he shouldn't lean in and look. He knew that. He wasn't some creepy guy that watches people have sex…

[melanodis]

don't really have much for a caption but i do have batshit insane rambling and more art under the cut

hardware capable of temporarily. read: TEMPORARILY. substituting for the central core to minimize downtime during maintenance

got wiped like 7 different times because he kept questioning his existence until they finally encrypted his imprint so much they had him asking how to use a doorknob

dual core processor equivalent to a PowerPC 970, capable of clocking up to 2.7 GHz for intensive tasks

always looking for """vintage""" computer parts in the hopes that they could be a compatible upgrade, like more RAM for his beautiful big brain ideas (wrong)

stole a network card out of a scientist's computer as a prank once he remembered humor. forgot to put it back and constantly tortures everyone else with his wifi capability

205X specific :

i don't think anyone is exactly jumping for joy at the words "open heart surgery." Especially not when it's you... on a table... alone with a light and a scalpel.

lights are dimmer for power conservation (dogshit battery)

processing power is also reduced unless necessary for hacking

low power mode has a dual purpose; conservation of battery power as well as keeping temperatures low to prevent overheating (huge headache + lots of broken parts)

clear coat has long eroded due to weathering + gel exposure during chamber maintenance

loss of coolant is nearly a death sentence for him and anyone involved due to the particular chemical mixture being difficult to find + reproduce (insanely hazardous to touch or breathe the fumes of)

yeah his radiator is probably rusted over but he's not touching that. it hasn't completely plugged itself so who cares (not him)

built like an old ass car, completely made of metal and doesn't crumple when impacted, leading to... lots of dents and shaken internals. nokia 3310 headass. he couldn't be assed to go through the cosmetic surgery that is fixing one of the newer models after a little fall (unless they're a patient of course)

on a related note, virgil is the robot equivalent of a beater car with the check engine light on and probably 6 other lights on, the underside is completely rusted out and the tires are bald. but it still runs so whatever, drive it into the ground buddy. he genuinely refuses to perform any work on himself unless its something critical. boo hoo nobody cares about some sensors and --- ah. temperature sensor.

i think

that can wait a little longer.